


Counting Stars

by AndyAO3, Zooheaded



Category: Diablo (Video Game), Diablo III
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Collaboration, Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Filthy filthy inappropriate humor, Humor, M/M, Multi, Rated explicit for the rampant drinking and debauchery, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zooheaded/pseuds/Zooheaded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU drabbles with the D3 cast, and prompts taken from Texts From Last Night. And then possibly some things that aren't drabbles when we feel like writing something more long-ish. </p>
<p>Take that money, watch it burn...~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Rest For The Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, Andy here. This is also sort of an experiment on both mine and Zoo's parts to see if it'll let us both post on a single work if we list it as a collab. It'll probably be disorganized and disjointed and more than a bit silly, but we've both been playing with this idea for a while.

1\. **"i don't make mistakes...just understandable bad choices."**

Leah was _very_ pretty, and Lyndon was _very_ drunk. These two things were what led to Lyndon getting a face full of pepper spray and a dainty, pointy-toed boot slammed into his crotch. Usually he wasn't so _crude_ as to warrant such violent behavior being directed towards him, but he'd been getting a bit too well-acquainted with messrs. Morgan, Bailey and Cuervo for his brain to register the words "stop it, you're being a creep" fully.

When Li arrived to pick him up about a half hour after a clumsy text conversation in which Lyndon was very glad for auto-correct, the prissy little Asian _twat_ had the nerve to laugh at him for being an idiot. Lyndon got back at him for it by vomiting on his Civic's upholstery, but his vengeance was short-lived; Li kicked him out of the car barely a few moments later.

With his face and eyes stinging like _mad_ , his groin still aching from the kick, and his throat feeling a bit raw, he eased himself up into a sitting position on the curb and pulled out his phone so he might go through his contacts and find someone _else_ to coerce into driving him home.

　

2\. **"He insisted on sleeping in my bed. Had he taken all of my obvious hints I would have sucked his dick. He only wanted to snuggle. My world has been turned upside down."**

Well, Li wasn't quite sure how to take _this_ one.

He was pretty much resigned to the fact that he and Lyndon would never be a permanent _thing_. While the Brit irritated him to no end at times, at others the man could be funny and charming and intelligent and _perceptive_ like no one Li had ever met before. And on the few rare occasions that they'd slept together - usually when the both of them were bored and had nothing or no one better to do - Lyndon had been _fantastic_ in bed. How could he be expected to _not_ be attracted?

It had seemed like becoming roommates might ease things a bit, but after the initial few weeks of disgust and dismay at some of the Londoner's habits, he'd grown accustomed to them. Once that happened, the attraction came back twofold. It wasn't that Lyndon could do no wrong, or that he wasn't annoying, or that Li forgave him for half of what he did. It was more that the good things outweighed the bad things by _far_.

So how was Li supposed to deal with an exhausted Brit coming into his room without explanation, flopping down on his bed - while he was _reading_ , too - and using his arm as a goddamn _pillow_? He tried to flirt with Lyndon, but the older man laughed off the attempts like they were jokes, and before Li could protest, the bastard had gone _right_ to sleep. Snoring and everything.

Li sighed after a while, put down his Kindle and reached for his phone with his free hand. Which was his left hand. He momentarily weighed the options of awkwardly trying to text so he could whine at someone about it, or just going back to reading _Good Omens_.

Damn it, Lyndon just _had_ to make it difficult.

　

3\. **"the owner gave me a free bottle of vodka and a 12pack of red bull if i agreed to leave. my drunken antics are finallly paying off."**

Actually, he wasn't even really all that plastered. It was nothing compared to the time with the blonde with a feather boa, or a thousand other incidents that he could think of in both the States and the UK. Lyndon probably didn't even have the blood-alcohol levels that would lead to that one traffic cop with an almost fetishistic sort of hate-boner being able to say he was driving under the influence, so he could likely drive _himself_ home for a change instead of having Li or Eirena or Leah do it.

But who was Lyndon to _complain_ when a game of drunken strip-poker with a bunch of sorority girls got him even _more_ free alcohol and some Red Bull to top it off? Not to mention the perks that came with having been able to convince the girls to play strip poker in the first place; not one, but _two_ of them followed him home! He figured that any man in his right mind would label such a night a complete success.

When Li confronted him in the morning about it, it wasn't the women using their bathroom, the upturned box of condoms on the couch, the bra hanging off of the rack-thing where pots and pans went in the kitchen, or even the glasses and empty cans everywhere that the younger man complained about. It was that Lyndon hadn't left any Red Bull _or_ vodka for him. That was when Lyndon realized he probably had one of the best roommates in the history of civilization.

Then he _immediately_ took that thought back when hangover-induced nausea was met with an unsympathetic bland sort of look and the statement "you're cleaning all of this up, by the way". At that point, Lyndon was half-tempted to puke on Li's damned fluffy slippers out of spite.

　

4\. **"there are teeth marks in the soap. why are there teeth marks in the soap."**

Usually Lyndon didn't _question_ when Li brought people over to their small, poorly-kept apartment for a romp. Between college and work, the poor bastard probably _needed_ a break from it all, and whenever the two of them had done the deed in the past, Li had seemed like he'd been holding in quite a bit of pent-up frustration.

So it was _good_ to spot him leading in a big, masculine skinhead with a voice somewhere between _gravelly_ and _chocolatey_ , and Lyndon didn't even bother to interfere like he normally might. Instead, he spent a relatively sober night out on the town, himself. Just so he wouldn't get in the way. Even went to go sit at the nearest bar 'til closing time while sipping something girly, determined to not question a single thing.

He decided around sunrise that it was about time he headed back, and came back into the flat as quietly as possible so as to not disturb his young roommate. On the way through the kitchen, though, he was confronted with the image of a shirtless, slightly scarred and ridiculously buff man in his 30's, sipping at a glass of orange juice. At least, Lyndon assumed the man was in his 30's. He could never be sure when someone had a face more worn-looking than the secondhand pleather couch in the living room.

Bloody fucking _hell_ , it had to be 5 AM. How was he even _awake_? Especially considering he'd just shagged _Li_ of all people, who was enthusiastic and energetic in bed to say the _least_. Or he had been when Lyndon had done it, anyway... and that train of thought led to another mental image that he probably shouldn't be thinking about if he didn't want to spend at least part of his morning having a wank.

"Erm... good morning," Lyndon greeted, blinking.

The stranger smirked at him and nodded politely, lifting an appraising brow. "Morning," he replied, and his tone was just as deep and rumbly as Lyndon had first thought it was. Casual, too. Like he did it this sort of thing all the time.

Lyndon just nodded awkwardly back, wondering if _this_ was how Li felt most mornings. Unable to think of anything else to say, he snuck off to get himself cleaned up and take a shower without another word.

Or he _would have_ , if the bathroom didn't look like a sodding _typhoon_ had hit it. How the _hell_ did the two of them manage to pull the shower curtains down? And why in God's name were there _teeth-marks_ on the soap?

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's my attempt at doing a couple drabbles inspired by texts from textsfromlastnight.com
> 
> Jack has been introduced. :) 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> -Zooheaded

1\. **-Do you know how bad I want you right now?**

**-As bad as I want you to stop texting me?**

**-Is that a hint?**

 

Eirena paused Netflix when she heard knocking on her apartment door. The screen froze on Buffy about to drive a wooden stake into a vampire's chest. Eirena made sure her pajamas were on correctly before she peered through the peephole, standing on tiptoe to see. Recognizing the visitor, she pulled the door open quickly.

Her neighbor from the apartment next door, Jack, was standing there awkwardly in his black thermal shirt and faded jeans, impossibly _tall_ in that tiny hallway, and holding an old, rectangular verizon phone in his hands like it was something slimy he'd found in the back of the fridge.

“Hullo, Eirena. Sorry, I didn't wake you did I?” He asked hesitantly, looking at her flowery, pink and purple pajamas.

Though they had spoken often, Jack was always extremely polite to her. She was thrilled to get the apartment at the end of the hall when she had first moved in, there were more windows and, being on the top floor, she'd only have to contend with neighbors across the hall and next door. The apartment next door had been vacant for nearly two weeks before Jack had moved in with his dog and two ferrets. Apartments this deep in the city that allowed animals were hard to come by, it had taken her months to find one that would let her keep her ragdoll cat Mrs. Beans.

“Oh no! I was watching Buffy on Netflix.” She reassured him sweetly, it was barely past eleven, he was simply _adorable_ to be so considerate. How did she get so lucky to have such a quiet neighbor? Well, his dog Sophie did bark sometimes, but it was only when he came home. She never made a sound throughout the day. Eirena never heard the ferrets either.

“Oh.” He said, having (she knew from their sometimes conversations) little to no idea what she was talking about, but didn't press for more information.

“I had a question about my phone, I don't really use it.” He began, holding it out to her carefully. “I keep getting all these... text messages? From... Lyndon. And I'm not sure how he got my number, or how to text back to ask him to stop.”

Eirena grinned. She knew Jack worked as a prison guard at the local precinct and was friends with the police officer Kormac who worked there. She knew this, because she had been down there over a dozen times with her friend Li to bail out his best friend and roommate, Lyndon. Jack hadn't always worked there though, he only came in a few weeks ago, not long after he moved in next door to her. So the next time Lyndon needed bail, she had seen him there and greeted him, and Li and Lyndon had bombarded her with questions about him ever since.

“Well, first off it might make texting a little easier if you open it to the keyboard.” She took the phone from him and opened it and he stared at it curiously, tucking his shoulder length black hair behind his ear.

“Oh. I didn't know it did that.” He said a little sheepishly. He didn't seem to have much experience with technology. She'd seen him typing away at a work computer just fine though. She wondered if he even had a TV or a computer of his own. She'd never seen the inside of his apartment before, and burned with curiosity.

“See how it says 'send' at the bottom of the screen there? Just hit this button here whenever you're done typing your message and it'll send.” She said, pointing at the little button on the keypad.

“Oh, ok. Thank you.” He said gently, then rubbed at his eyes a little. He looked tired. “I wish I knew how he got my number though, it's annoying.” He added with a scowl. “He's down there all the time too. I can't believe he hasn't gotten in more trouble.”

Eirena smiled at him sympathetically, “Someone must have given it to him or something. Who knows.” She said innocently. Jack just hmm'd thoughtfully, then glared at his phone when it vibrated.

Eirena wondered how upset Jack would be if he knew _she_ was the one who gave his number to Li, making it easily available to Lyndon. Jack worked late hours and didn't go out anywhere that Eirena knew of, (though he did jog in the early morning with his dog) and despite being quite handsome... didn't seem to be very _happy_. He often slept during the day because of his work schedule. Last Thursday Eirena had heard a scream through the wall from Jack's apartment and, concerned and frightened, she had knocked on his door to check on him. He had answered eventually, groggy and soaked in sweat, dog at his feet, and apartment pitch black behind him, and reassured her that he was fine and apologized for scaring her. He admitted that he had nightmares sometimes and would try not to disturb her in the future.

She felt sorry for her tall neighbor, she thought that perhaps Jack would do better with some friends. Or _something_. And Li was one of her _best_ friends, how could she say no when he asked her for Jack's number? She bid him goodnight and went back to her show, feeling pleased with herself.

 

 

 

2\. **-What kind of scumbag goes to a baby's 1st birthday party with a black eye? This kind. Me. I'm disgraceful.**  
  


Lyndon stared at the bottom of his glass, having drunk its contents long ago. He'd run out of money and had been unsuccessful in charming the other bar patrons into getting him a drink. This usually worked, because people in American couldn't get enough of British accents, especially the girls, but he must have come here one too many times already, because they were avoiding talking to him at _all_. Time to find a new haunt apparently.

He hated drinking alone, but Li had practically forced him out of their flat, claiming he had to “study” or some such shit, despite how hard Lyndon had tried to drag the other man out on the town with him to be his “wingman.” Rotten little twat. But Lyndon wasn't _mad_ at him, not really, he was just depressed Li wasn't here with him to keep him company.

He'd also texted just about every person in his mobile, trying to find someone to spend time with, but they all seemed to be busy. He even tried texting that handsome security guard Jack who's number he'd stolen from Li's contact list, but got no response (as he expected) except once he got some weird letters jumbled together that didn't make sense, like the bastard didn't know how to _use_ a  mobile or something.

Drinking alone usually made him want to go home. Not home to the flat he shared with his friend, but his _real_ home. England. London. Where his brother rotted in prison, which was Lyndon's fault. And where his brother's wife and her kids struggled to afford a place to live without Edlin's job income. Also his fault, but he hoped it was a little better for Rea now since he'd been wiring most of his money to her to pay for her and her kids to eat. She took the money, but she never thanked or tried to communicate with him in anyway.

Probably because the exchange rate from dollars to pound was utter shit. Another point for _Lyndon_. If he wasn't pissing it away with drink he was pissing it away some _other_ way.

He still remembered the last time he'd seen her. It had been at their kid's (hers and Edlins, and god , had they really been married over a year already?) first birthday party and he had shown up with a fucking black eye, much to the disgust from everyone on Rea's side of the family. Her proper, _perfect_ , Yorkshire farm family. There was no one from his and Edlin's side, orphaned young with no family to claim them. Rea's family had welcomed Edlin into their fold with open arms but Lyndon had ever remained the black sheep. Rea had said hello to him, had even given him a piece of cake, but he had barely been able to talk to her, the pain of her rejection still too fresh. He'd spent most of the party with his brother, who hadn't been upset that he'd shown up looking all fucked up, had hugged him and told him that he was glad to see him and that he'd done well to wear sunglasses to cover up his shiner, and asked if he could give the little birthday girl (his fucking _niece_ , he was an _uncle_ for christ's sake) one of his balloon animals because Edlin thought she would _really_ like that and he always made the best-

That was before Edlin had been arrested. He shouldn't think about it anymore.

It was probably for the best. He was still wanted in Britain by police and mob alike. That was partly why he'd fled the country in the first place, and definitely _most_ of the reason why he couldn't go back home. Not until he could get enough money to get his brother's case reviewed at least. Being a cop hadn't helped Edlin's innocence plea in the slightest, he was too goody two shoes, like that Kormac down at the station, and the other fuzz probably liked that his brother was finally out of the way, then they could take all the bribe money they wanted.

He hated the mob, almost as much as he hated the police force. At least here he could get away with more, at least Kormac's case against him was meager at best, and most of his incidents were public intoxication related. Or public nudity. Usually both.

He hated sitting here, alone and feeling sorry for himself. So he went back to the flat.

He'd only been gone a few hours and Li was at first mad that he'd come home early, but seemed to realize that he was in a _mood_ and sat with him on the couch to study while they watched 'How it's Made' on the History Channel.

At least he still had one good friend in this dump of a country that he could rely on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The insanity continues.

**5\. "I don't know if it is the Everclear or chemistry, but i think my brain is coming out of my ears."**

Finals were nearly over and done with. Li just had one more he had to take care of, and then he was free and clear for the summer. Unfortunately, it was in one of his weaker subjects, and he hadn't had the patience for studying for it beforehand when all the other subjects were so much more interesting and he was so much better at them. A science major he may have been, but chemistry was far from being his strong suit.

This looked like a job for his old friend Booze-Saturated All-Nighter Cram Session.

Even Lyndon knew better than to bother Li about this. It had been made _very_ clear to the Brit on previous occasions that he was not to prod Li while there was studying going on unless there was an emergency, and even then it had to be the sort of emergency that meant insurance premiums or hospital bills would probably be major concerns afterward. The semester as a whole was one thing, but finals could sometimes be half a student's grade, and Li didn't want to risk failing one just because his roommate had gotten kicked out of a bar and needed a ride home.

Now, normal cram sessions for his usual classes didn't usually necessitate drinking in Li's case. To be perfectly honest, most of his classes didn't even require cram sessions because he was one of those rare students who actually liked science and math and thought they were pretty cool.

He could write an entire essay on just the Higgs-Boson _alone_ (and was already planning on writing his major thesis on compensating for stellar drift and the relativistic effects that large bodies would have on getting one's bearings visually, and the implications both of these things would have for charting a course in terms of interstellar travel). He was the kind of weird little nerd that would ask, "what effect would a warp drive have on a star if you drove through it?" He secretly still owned a telescope, and knew exactly how far out one had to drive from civilization to be able to see the stars clearly on a cloudless night.

However, he had never been the little kid to own a chemistry set, nor had he particularly enjoyed frog dissection. He assumed that it was partly due to growing up in the sort of environment where people would get annoyed if the artificial volcano made a mess of the dining room table and firecrackers weren't well-regulated in regards to being easily accessible for a bored child with too much pocket money.

And, well, if he were to be honest, chemistry got boring after one learned the basics of making things explode. So to keep the boredom from putting him to sleep, he stocked up on ridiculously powerful alcohol and plenty of caffeine pills, then proceeded to hit the books as hard as he ever had.

When it came time to take the test the next morning, he was still a little drunk when he stumbled into class. This was probably a good thing; afterall, he was too tipsy to _over_ think the answers, and his head was too foggy for him to worry himself into an anxiety attack afterward about whether or not he'd gotten things wrong. When it was all said and done, he figured he was in a better state after having drunkenly fumbled through a final than he would have been if he'd tried to fumble through it while sober.

Overall, it went rather well. Except for the whole bit where, upon waking up on the couch back at the apartment afterward, he found out that Lyndon had drawn dicks all over him while he was sleeping off the Everclear. He could do without that.

**6\. "No. Dude. I didn't knoe it eas floibg to move. It's slepprru ixuy!"**

It was a mass-text to everyone on Lyndon's friends list, and no one was quite sure what they were supposed to make of it.

Many guesses were made as to what the last sentence might have once been while it was still being formed in Lyndon's head. Leah thought it might be "it's slippery okay", and that seemed to make the most sense given the context of the sentence before it. At least everyone had managed to agree on the second sentence being something like "I didn't know it was going to move".

The next step was finding out just who the hell he'd been trying to text at the time, and the general consensus between Li, Leah, Kormac, and Eirena was "it wasn't me". Of course, none of them really quite knew who _else_ might be on Lyndon's friends list, aside from a private hunch or two that Li had, so it was a weird couple of hours as they all debated about it through their odd friend-network.

Eventually, the mystery was indeed solved when Lyndon got back to the apartment that night; Li sighed as he sent out a mass-text of his own reporting the drunken Brit's status, while pulling the man out from the back of Jack's squad car. The dumb fucker had somehow managed to both twist his ankle _and_ bloody his nose while he was out, and it didn't seem like the quiet, tall cop had the heart to arrest him for his terminal case of stupid.

For good measure, Li sent pictures to everyone of the poor bastard passed out on the couch with a tampon up his nose.

**7\. "It sounds like I am drunk, but I am not. I just have a concussion."**

It was a little-known fact that Li had a sister. Lyndon knew, naturally, as did Eirena. Leah, however, did not. It wasn't the sort of thing they discussed, and if it didn't come up on someone's Facebook wall, then Leah tended to not catch wind of it. Besides, Li having _family_? Psh, right. That kid was a loner. He was probably the only child of a couple of rich foreign parents or something.

Except he wasn't. He was the _fourth_ child. Leah found that out when she came into contact accidentally with the _third_ child, via one of Facebook's people-you-might-know suggestions. Li had a sister who was also in the states, whose name was just as much of a clusterfuck of Chinese gibberish as Li's was.

She went by Ming. And she made _Lyndon_ look like a wallflower.

She had pages on every social networking site known to mankind, and possibly some that weren't. She had vine videos, selfies, an entire extra Instagram account that Leah could swear was devoted to pictures of things stuffed in her cleavage (which she seemed quite proud of). Her descriptions of herself varied wildly from site to site so much that Leah was certain this woman had to be trolling on most of them.

Out of sheer morbid curiosity, Leah sent a friend request to this strange woman that her best hipster midget friend was related to. Even if nothing else came of it, Leah thought, it'd at least be funny to watch this mess of a human being screw herself up.

The next day, Ming posted a video on her many, _many_ pages that was apparently documenting the aftermath of a failed stunt. Or maybe it had succeeded. Leah wasn't totally sure, since the details were sort of vague. She _did_ , however, catch the direct shoutout Ming made to her. By name. Even if it was mispronounced. How the hell did people keep doing that? It wasn't even _spelled_ the same as the princess from Star Wars! And who even said "holla to my homies" anymore, anyway?

A few minutes after the video was posted, she got a text from Li. "Please don't encourage her."

Oh, _that_ was asking for it. Didn't he know that sending a text like that was just like daring Leah to do just what he was telling her _not_ to do? At that point it was like she was required to do it just to teach him a lesson.

By the time a week had passed, she and Ming were Skype buddies.


	4. Everybody Wants To Rule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys, stop worrying about feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Girlfun is actually quite refreshing and interesting to write. Leah's is also the most American-sounding perspective I've written so far. Which is good, because I was worried I was starting to sound too British lately.

**8\. "I feel like today should be a " im going to have sex with you cause its raining and theres nothing else to do" kinda day"**

When both of them were bored, had nothing better to do, and were lacking in ambition, sometimes Li and Lyndon would still have sex on rare occasions.

Li knew he shouldn't let it happen. Given the whole _feelings_ thing, which had hardly improved with time, it was probably best if he didn't give in to the temptation. But then temptation would win out, and he'd think to himself that no harm would come of it so long as he didn't let on about anything, and it would all be fine. Everything would continue as it always did. Like any other person with a guilty pleasure might, he'd successfully convinced himself that he had the willpower to turn it down any time he liked.

Besides, Lyndon was in one of his _moods_. One of those gloomy, festering, terrible funks he'd fall into occasionally over family matters. Li knew he needed cheering; otherwise, he wouldn't have brought up the idea of sex, would he? Even if Lyndon didn't know _consciously_ about his roommate's feelings, some part of him probably still registered on a more instinctive level that sleeping with Li was in some way _not good_ and that he should keep it to a minimum. Or maybe he'd just started feeling awkward about his best friend being his first proverbial port of call.

Li received the text while he was still at work. On the way home, he drove maybe a bit faster than he should have considering how steadily it was raining. He hadn't brought a coat to work, so he was soaked when he got in the door, closing it behind him with a little more force than he'd intended to use. Their open-concept flat's floor plan lent itself well to Lyndon seeing him come in from the position of an undignified sprawl across the couch.

The older man blinked at him, getting up and walking over with a look of disbelief. "That was quick," he remarked.

"My shift was almost over when you texted me." A blatant lie, but it had been such a slow day due to the weather and lack of college student customers that Li had been able to get away with leaving. "Why, is it a problem? Don't tell me you've changed your mind."

"Of course it's not a problem, it's just _weird_. I was expecting to be snubbed, or at least made to wait. Didn't think you'd rush home just for a quick shag on a rainy day."

Feeling annoyed, Li huffed at Lyndon's implications. "If you're going to complain about it--"

"I'm not complaining, I'm observing." Lyndon pouted. "Dear God, you're being defensive..."

Li rolled his eyes. This was going nowhere. "Lyndon, for once in your damn life, _shut up_ ," he said, before forcing the matter with a hard kiss. Between that and the following none-too-gentle bite on the taller man's neck, he managed to get the Brit to stop complaining (or observing, or whatever the hell it was that Lyndon was doing that Li didn't want to think about too hard because it'd just piss the shorter man off further if he did).

Not even fifteen minutes later, he had the mouthy bastard spread out over the kitchen countertop, spitting curses in between moans with a white-knuckled grip on the peeling laminate. It was much easier for Li to convince himself not to _think_ about either of their problems when he had those legs wrapped tightly around his waist.

 

**9\. "I have a 30 pack and enough condoms to last until tomorrow morning. Have Mystery Science Theater 3000 ready. I'm on my way over."**

In spite of the fact that they had been seeing each other fairly often for at least a couple of months, Han didn't actually think that he and Li were really _dating_. And that was fine.

After all, they'd mutually agreed from the start that it was a friends-with-benefits sort of thing and that was all it would ever have the potential to be. It was impossible for them to have any sort of healthy long-term relationship with each other when both of them had someone else they would much rather be with. In Han's case, it was that tall, lean cop with messy dark hair that he'd seen a few times while at work. In Li's case, it was his fellow-expat roommate.

Neither of them had any real claim to having suggested more meetings than the other, but a pattern had emerged after a while all the same. Han called or texted when he was both off-duty and feeling lonely; Li brought it up when he was off from school, off from work, and feeling slightly used. Then the one being propositioned would take the one doing the propositioning up on it whenever they were free. It was a nice little system.

Han knew something was more wrong than usual when Li pushed him down on the couch and straddled him. Empty cans were scattered around them, and the television had long since become mostly-ignored background noise as they'd been grinding against each other and stripping one another of their respective layers.

Even though he figured it was at least partly the alcohol spurring the smaller man's sudden act of bravery, he shied away slightly and got a firm hold on Li's hips to keep him from doing something as poorly thought-out as impaling himself. "No, no. You'll regret that later, so no."

Li whined and leaned his head against the fireman's broad chest. "Ass. I wanted to not have to _think_."

"Yeah, and you'll want to be able to _walk_ later," Han replied with a faint smirk. He snuck a hand around so that he could slip a finger inside the much shorter man, and was rewarded with a gasp and a shiver. "Did you forget that last time I had to _carry_ you to bed?"

"That w-- _fuck_ \--that was only because I pulled something," Li insisted.

Another finger had the poor little student's breath hitching and his delicate hands clenching into fists. "No, it's because you're not _used_ to this," Han corrected.

"Hah, can you blame me...?" Finally looking up again to shoot Han a smirk, Li's voice was far from steady as he spoke. "It-- _nngh_ , usually it's a little too intense, y'know?"

"Is it? You did tell me not to treat you like you're fragile." Han couldn't help but feel a little amused. It was a rare treat to get to top the smaller man without having to do some sort of bargaining, and watching him get defensive about it was always entertaining.

Li tried to pout at that, but he was too busy riding Han's fingers. "I m-mean it makes it... hard to _think_ ," he said in a breathless half-mumble.

"Mm," the fireman aknowledged, pulling his fingers out and reaching for his discarded pants, which were draped over the back of the battered couch, to get a condom from his pocket. At that point, he flipped their positions; Li hit the cushions with a grunt. "Then let me help to _keep_ you from thinking."

Even if it was Han's back that those obsessively-trimmed nails raked stinging lines across, it was not his name that left those parted lips. And that was fine.

It wasn't Li's name that came first to the larger man's mind, either.

 

**10\. "5% want to drink juice and feel better, 95% just want to touch your butt"**

So, being friends with Ming was a bit of a weird experience.

As things turned out, it was around the time Leah came into contact with the outgoing young woman that said young woman was considering moving into the same college town her brother lived in. "Partly to keep an eye on him, partly to tease the hell out of him," Ming had said on a skype call, mere days before her flight. Leah could see all of the woman's things in the background, having already been packed into boxes in preparation for the move.

"He tried to tell me not to be friends with you," Leah noted after a short pause between them. She figured it was best to get that sort of thing out in the open.

Ming giggled and waved it off dismissively. "Ppfff. Doesn't seem like it stopped you."

Leah smiled guiltily. "Maybe I'm just morbidly curious and waiting to see how crazy it'll be when you crash and burn," she said, though that was only partly the case. A very small part, at that.

"Haha, but those are the best kind of friends!" Ming rolled onto her side on her temporary air mattress, pulling her laptop with her so that the view Leah had from the skype call shifted disorientingly. "Man, I can't sleep. Words With Friends time?"

That conversation had been two weeks ago. Ming was now not only moved into the town her brother and his friends lived in, but fully settled in as well. Leah had gone to meet her at the airport; her brother had made excuses and left his sister in his friend's hands. It didn't take long for Leah to figure out why. From that first meeting in person onward, Ming had been spending much of her time fending off jet lag with alcohol. Then, she'd decided that more alcohol would be the best way to keep the ensuing skullsplitting hangovers at bay.

Normally, Leah was fairly forgiving of her drunken friends' antics. Except what she didn't know from Ming's online persona was that her newest friend got a bit, well... _hands-on_ when she was plastered. It just wasn't something that had occurred to Leah, honestly. Furthermore, it hadn't occured to her that Ming might prefer the fairer sex when it came to picking victims for groping.

Most startlingly of all, Leah found herself being far more accepting of such behavior from Ming than she ever would have been from someone like, say, Lyndon. It wasn't that she pitied Ming or didn't feel like it'd be right to defend herself, but the smaller woman was just... uh, well, less _gross_ about it, Leah thought. Less creepy. Certainly less threatening.

If anything, Leah felt slightly protective. Because it was almost _cute_ when Ming would do something dumb while she was hammered like faceplanting Valla's cleavage, and _cute_ tended to lead to Leah volunteering to be the designated dork of the evening out of some weird protective instinct.

Coming from Lyndon, a hungover messaging conversation where he admitted to wanting to touch her butt as a motive for coming over to recover from the previous night would have led to being blocked and possibly reported as spam. But when it was Ming, Leah allowed the much smaller woman use of her couch, fridge, and medicine cabinet, since she'd had the foresight to not get an apartment next to a train track, and Ming had not.

She couldn't help but wonder to herself whether this was because of a double-standard or a sort of strange misplaced affection.


	5. What.

**1\. You are possibly the most enthusiastic, likable bad influence I've ever met.**

Jack huffed a sharp, irritated breath through his nose as he took the turn onto Main St. “Let me be clear.” He said to the drunk man sprawled in the backseat of his cruiser with two twisted ankles and a wad of napkins crammed into his bleeding nose.

“The only, and I mean _only_ reason you are not going to jail tonight is because I know Eirena and do not want to cause any trouble for her.” He snapped.

That and the man had _called_ him to be picked up, and sent several confusing texts afterwards.

“You din' read me my rightsss.” Lyndon slurred, voice slightly nasally from the napkins.

“You're not under arrest.” Jack answered calmly.

“I'm... _telling_.” The brit threatened.

“Go ahead.” He shot back, beginning to lose his patience.

“You're pretty.” Lyndon said, then started giggling.

“Great. Try not to bleed on my seats.” Jack snapped.

“Can I...?... Pssh, give me yer numbuh.” The brit asked in a hopeful, sort of demanding way.

Jack sighed, he hated drunk people. “You have it, _you_ called _me_. And furthermore, that does not mean that I am your personal 911 system, a taxi, or your _friend_. Understand?”

“Heee... heehee.” The man wheezed. “You're _pretty_.”

He sighed again, “Whatever.” At least he didn't need to pry the address out of him, he had been to Li's once before on a noise complaint. Li seemed very nice, he was in school at least. Jack wondered how the two could have possibly become _friends_ , let alone roommates.

And _Eirena_ too? He was surprised.

Kormac considered Lyndon to be his arch nemesis, but Jack couldn't really see the reason for it. Frustrating as he was, the british man was relatively harmless. Being a bit stupid wasn't a crime as far as he knew.

“Why don'... yoo like me?” Lyndon whined petulantly, weaving his fingers into the metal grate that separated the front seat from the back.

“ _Why?_ I don't know, let me make a _list_ for you.” Jack hissed irritably. He wished he had a cup of coffee. “You're always drunk or high or being loaded into the back of a squad car every time I see you. You _somehow_ got my phone number and text me on a frequent basis. You didn't even _ask_ me-”

“Would yoo have given it t'me if I'd _asked_ first?” Lyndon asked sweetly, sniffling heavily and wiping his nose again.

The question caught him off guard, and he felt his face flush a little. He didn't quite know what to say.

“Pfffftttftfttt.” The man stifled laughter. “Turn th' cop lights on! Turn on the siren! Weeewooo!” He exclaimed gleefully.

“No! Shut up!” Jack snapped

“You're so _tall_. I bet... you got a _huuuuuuge_ dick!”

Oh my god. Thankfully they weren't more than a few minutes away from the apartment complex. Then he wouldn't have to deal with this anymore.

 

 **2\. Thats cool. We found a cat INSIDE a coke machine.**

When Kormac clocked in to work, he expected his day would likely be as any other. He woke at 6am, got ready, ate a healthy breakfast, drove to work in his patrol car, ticketed eight people that were going over the speed limit in a school zone, (it was after school had started but that didn't mean one shouldn't take special precautions when children were involved).

An excellent morning so far.

His police radio did not report any pressing matters that were not already being addressed, so he decided to stop at the jail and get some paperwork out of the way. Some officers preferred to do paperwork in their cars, but Kormac didn't like not giving the patrol his full attention at _all_ times. He walked in through the front doors, idly noticing that the coke machine had been vandalized, the glass in front smashed in, he made a mental note to get to the bottom of it, ticking likely suspects off in his head already. Likely that frequent offender, south England twit, _Lyndon_. More evidence would be required to make a proper accusation however. He made plans to fingerprint the scene and put up a police line before going inside for tea. Even after all this time away from England, he still couldn't shake the ritual. Now that he was thinking about it, perhaps he'd stop at the bakery down the street for a pastry after lunch.

“Good morning Jack.” He spouted cheerfully at his co-worker.

The man glanced up at him from his paperwork and offered the barest of smiles in greeting. “Good morning.”

He sat down at his desk and glanced at his new-ish coworker who shared desk space with him, at the tale end of his shift. They had similar paperwork habits and were usually in at the same time in the morning, then Jack would usually go home. Kormac had seen him more than once in the shooting gallery in the early evenings. Much of his patrol was during the night shift, picking up drunken college kids and dealing with the frequent noise complaints and house party incidents, so Kormac assumed he slept during the day.

Jack had been working here for a few weeks now (transferred from one of the southern states perhaps? Or out west? Kormac had heard different things from different people,) and had barely spoken to him even though they sat across from each other. Oh, Kormac thought he was pleasant enough, he didn't prattle on about his girlfriend or some nonsense on the internet as his other coworkers often did, and was good at his job, at least for one as _young_ as he was...

Come to think of it, Kormac could not exactly place his age, he was very tall, taller than himself, had a gravelly voice and usually needed a shave (Kormac felt he should mention there would be a uniform inspection on the 18 th  and that Jack should probably shave to avoid being reprimanded for any untidiness.) and often looked as if he hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before. He seemed foreign but had no unusual accent that Kormac could detect. Minor oddities aside, Jack's dedication to the job almost surpassed his own, and that was a rare trait among his fellow officers, so Kormac was more than happy to work with him on the rare instances they were paired together.

He also heard that Jack was _Eirena's_ next door neighbor.

So, when Kormac heard noises coming from a cardboard box set under the desk, he did his best to politely ignore them and do his work.

“Should be a uniform inspection on the, um, the 18th.” Kormac said cheerfully.

“Yes.” Jack answered simply, not looking up from what he was writing.

Kormac frowned, he did not mind Jack's dedication, but sometimes wished he spoke just a little bit more instead of offering blunt answers for _everything_.

The sounds emanating from the box became more insistent and Jack sighed softly. He reached inside and pulled out a... fluffy _thing_.

Kormac squinted and stared at the ball of black fuzz, trying to comprehend just what exactly, he was looking at. “Is that a um... is that a _kitten_?” Kormac asked in suspicious confusion.

Jack gave him a very bland look and held the thing in his lap. “Yes.” It seemed very happy to be out of the box and curled up on Jack's legs into a little fluffy ball.

“Why... do you have a kitten here?” Kormac asked, deeply confused and begging an explanation. Was this some sort of 'bring your pet to work day' office morale thing that he was not told about?

“It had somehow wedged itself inside of the coke machine out front. I wanted a water, heard it crying and, finding no other way to free it short of calling the supplier for assistance, I smashed the glass.” Jack explained concisely. Kormac stared at the other man's hands and noticed several band-aids on his right hand. He _supposed_ he'd have to cross Lyndon off his suspect list. For now. He also dimly realized that this was the most Jack had ever said to him in one time since he'd met him.

“I brought her inside and gave her some tuna from my sandwich... but I can't afford to keep any more pets. And I may get in trouble with my landlord if I take her home.” Jack said, sounding a bit displeased. Then his expression changed to an unhappy frown. “I don't want to just give her to a shelter... I'm not sure what to do with her yet. Perhaps _Eirena_...”

“Ei-Eirena?” Kormac reiterated, perking up.

“She has a cat already, really _likes_ cats, but I don't want to inconvenience her.” Jack continued, seemingly oblivious to how the mention of Eirena had affected his fellow officer.

And then, for the first time in a long while (perhaps even, _ever_ ) Kormac made a decision before giving it some serious thought.

“I can um, I can look after it for now, if you'd like? For a few days?” Kormac offered unthinkingly.

Jack glanced up from the sleeping kitten to look at him with a sweet sort of hopeful expression. Kormac swallowed thickly, wondering if he had just made a terrible mistake. “Would you? I don't want to burden you-” Jack began softly.

“It's uh, it's fine! Though I've never had a cat before so um- I... any _suggestions_ would be-” Kormac began, feeling silly.

“Well, you'll need to pick up some kitten food from a supermarket or something, and she'll need a litter box and-” Jack went on and on at great length for the things Kormac would need for the tiny kitten, even wrote out a detailed list for him, but he had stopped listening, all he could think about was that he'd finally have a reason to talk to _Eirena._

 

 

 **3\. This is a drunk text message. I am so glad that we are friends. Tomorrow we will eat sandwiches in miniature. We both love dogs. Flower.**

About two hours after falling asleep, Jack was abruptly woken by high pitched, squeals and giggling from through the wall. He drowsily fumbled for the alarm clock and stared at it a full minute before he could comprehend what numbers the hands were pointing to.

5:30am. He groaned a little. True, he had tomorrow off and didn't have to go anywhere, but he was _tired_ and had trouble enough sleeping as it was. His german shepherd Sophie, a retired police dog he'd adopted, lifted her head up from the pillows and thumped her tail on the bed happily, eager to play with whoever was having fun next-door.

Eirena and a friend of hers likely. She wasn't usually this loud. It was alright.

The giggles died down after a few minutes and he found his eyes closing again. He'd almost fallen back asleep when he heard insistent knocking on his door. Sophie whooped a single bark, then stopped when he hushed her.

Confused, Jack dragged himself out of bed and shambled over to the door. He didn't think to look before opening it, and if he had, he might not have opened the door at all.

Eirena and her friend Leah were covered in flour and what looked like some kind of pancake or cupcake batter. Eirena had a mostly empty bottle of wine in her hand. Pointing at him and squealing happily as he squinted and blinked in the harsh fluorescent hallway light, they hugged his dog around her neck, smearing flour and batter into her fur, while she wriggled and wagged her tail, overjoyed, then they pet her and let her lick the batter off of their fingers.

“What...” Jack mumbled, wondering if he was hallucinating.

Eirena bounced on her feet in a bubbly manner, “The faucet hands would've gotten all _cake_ on it!” She exclaimed, then wobbled and nearly fell onto her friend.

“Yeah duuuh!” Leah said by way of explanation.

“...What...” He asked again, unsure of how to formulate a proper question. He had too many to ask.

Then both girls linked arms and stumbled back into Eirena's apartment, fairly screaming with laughter.

Jack just stood there in the hallway, wondering what was happening and if he had the energy to give his dog a bath in the tub.

Tomorrow.

He stumbled back inside his apartment and locked the door, then burrowed back into the blankets, not caring if Sophie got flour on the bed or not.

 


End file.
